


Ryan Sinclair

by awareinthevoid



Series: Doctor Who Character Studies [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Death, Mention of Death, Sad, basically i watched tsuranga and wanted to write this after he mentioned his mum, but hopeful?, first one is sad, he do be sad tho, soft, tags updated as we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24972694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awareinthevoid/pseuds/awareinthevoid
Summary: A character study of Ryan Sinclair, one of the current members of Team TARDIS.
Series: Doctor Who Character Studies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082771
Kudos: 5





	Ryan Sinclair

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you've been here before, you may notice I've changed this up a bit. The actual writing isn't changed, but I've decided to separate all of my little character studies going forward.   
> Anyways, just a bit of a warning - this fic deals with death and loss, so tread carefully <3

_Sun was streaming lazily through the window, illuminating the sofa where Ryan sat playing video games. He had finished his virtual Fifa match, and thought to himself that it seemed rather quiet in the house._

_His mum had been doing the washing up. He could hear the water running, but he couldn’t hear the humming that had accompanied it a few minutes before._

_He ventured toward the kitchen, a voice nagging at the back of his mind that something was wrong._

_“Mum?” he called cautiously._

_Lying on the floor next to the sink was his mum. Her hands were wet, and lay awkwardly on her chest and stomach. Ryan couldn’t see her breathing, and his pulse quickened._

_He called her name again. No response._

_Tears started to prick at the edges of his eyes. His voice was beginning to crack sporadically as he begged and pleaded with her to open her eyes. He shook her, held her hand, tried to encourage himself to do CPR._

_In a sudden moment of clarity, he grabbed the phone on the wall and dialed emergency services. His hands and legs were shaking, he was frantic. Where was his dad, why wasn’t he here?_

_“Hello?” he said into the receiver as soon as he heard the click that the other line had picked up, ignoring the request for information._

_He spoke quickly, maybe too much so, giving them his address between sobs and sniffles._

_The woman on the other end attempted to calm him down, to reassure him that it would be alright, but he couldn’t think like that. His mind was shouting and screaming that, no, it wouldn’t be alright. He was alone, his dad was nowhere to be seen, and his mum was unconscious on the floor._

_He sat on the floor next to her, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. Cries tore from his throat, and every so often they’d break as he called her name again._

_An ambulance arrived, and paramedics rushed in to shift his mum onto a stretcher. There was no sign that anything remained in her. She didn’t move, her eyes didn’t flutter, her chest didn’t rise. Ryan could feel his eyes burning with hot tears and his throat tightened with each wail he tried to restrain._

_They let him ride in the back of the ambulance with his mum, all the while trying to get in contact with his dad. He wouldn’t answer his phone, and the longer it went on the more Ryan was convinced that he wouldn’t care. That he’d brush it off like he did every other even slightly emotional thing that happened in their lives._

Ryan sat on the sofa, fists clenching and unclenching as he ran over the events of that day, seven years ago now. He hadn’t seen his dad until after his mum had been pronounced dead. He’d been left to take the news alone. He’d been left with doctors and nurses whose eyes poured over with pity and he couldn’t stand it.

He didn’t know if he’d forgiven his dad for that. He should’ve been there, should’ve supported his son as he prayed to any god to bring his mum back. 

But he hadn’t been there. And she died, with only Ryan by her side.

Crescent moon shapes were scattered on his palm, nails digging in as he squeezed his fists tighter and tighter. He never liked this day, never liked to acknowledge its existence.  
Some people would tell him to move on, to remember her but stop dwelling so hard on the past. 

They didn’t understand, though. They weren’t the little boy walking in on his mum, unconscious and nearly dead on the kitchen floor after a heart attack. They hadn’t experienced the drop of their heart to their stomach, or the hyperventilating that accompanied it. 

He picked up an old picture of them. He was about nine, and they were at a zoo he couldn’t remember the name of. She was beaming and laughing as Ryan cowered away from the curious gaze of an ostrich. He chuckled, remembering fondly how she’d poked fun at him for being afraid of a bird. She always loved to joke.

Another photo lay beside it, this time of a moment not long before his mum passed. His thirteenth birthday party.

They were gathered around a haphazardly lit cake, eyes gleaming and smiles wide as Ryan made his special wish. 

He couldn’t remember what he’d wished for. Probably some new game console or electronic device. The day had gone by in a blur, everything was hazy.

Now, he only wished he’d thought to wish away the impending affliction his mother would suffer. 

He set the photo down, tears brimming in his eyes and threatening to spill over. He blinked them away, though he knew it would probably be good to let them flow. Crying would help, he knew. But, he still couldn’t bring himself to. Something his dad had told him once lingered.

_“Here’s the thing, Ryan,” he’d said. “There’s not a lot of people you can trust in this world, in the real world. I need you to keep that in your head.” a tough finger poked at Ryan’s forehead. “You can’t trust anyone besides me, your mum, and your nan. You got that?”_

_Ryan nodded, but he wasn’t sure he trusted his dad. He’d never been very reliable, and this bit of advice at eleven years old was a lot to comprehend._

“You ready, son?” Graham asked cautiously from the doorway. He had his keys in hand, ready to bring Ryan along to their family counseling.

At first, Ryan had been wary about the whole thing. It had been his nan’s idea, but they never got to it before she passed. Eventually, Graham had decided that they would try, if only for her.

So on they drove. A friendly woman named Siobhan greeted them at the front desk and directed them toward the room where Dr. Akers waited. 

“Hello boys,” she smiled warmly. “How are we doing today? I understand it’s the anniversary of your mum’s passing, Ryan?”

He flinched at how blunt she seemed, but nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured. 

They took a seat on opposite ends of the sofa facing the therapist. 

“Talk to me about it,” she prompted, sitting up in her chair and crossing her legs. She was patient with him, giving him the time he needed to think of what to say.

He took a few deep breaths, doing his best to avoid any sort of breakdown. 

“It’s just been a lot today,” he began, already feeling his throat tightening and eyes watering. “Missing my mum, thinking of my nan, wishing my dad were around. I mean, yeah, I’ve got Graham,” he gestured clumsily, “But I just feel like I’ve lost _so much_ , in so little time. Ever since I were thirteen, even before mum died, dad had already been in and out. He doesn’t seem to care, or at least doesn’t show it and definitely doesn’t let me know.”

Ryan was past the point of caring if he was crying. Tears fell freely, collecting on the denim of his jeans. Graham reached over to wrap an arm around his shoulder, and he let him. He leaned into his grasp, fully letting his cries leave his mouth. 

Dr. Akers nodded knowingly, “Grief can take hold harshly. And I know you might feel silly about it because of the number of years it’s been, but that doesn’t take away from the fact you’ve been hurt, Ryan. You went through so much trauma and turmoil at a young age, and it’s not ‘stupid’ or ‘dumb’ that it manifests itself even now. Some people take years to even realize the extent to which they’ve been traumatized.”

She gave a small but kind smile.

“But you seem to take it in your stride. You’re allowing yourself to cry, allowing yourself to _feel_ , and that’s good. Don’t get it in your head that expressing emotion is something to be ashamed of.” she looked between Graham and Ryan. “And conversation about how you’re feeling can be so, so helpful. Talking about what’s bugging you, no matter how small. Whether it’s a mate who’s been a little harsh, or something as heavy as today. Communication is vital in all relationships.”

Graham looked at Ryan and smiled encouragingly. Ryan couldn’t smile back just yet, but he did his best.

Dr. Akers let them speak for most of their appointment. Graham shared a few of the same sentiments. He spoke about how he hurt along with Ryan because of what day it was. That he was pained to see the young man so troubled. He cared deeply for him, even if he sometimes gave him a headache.

“I’m certain that your mum and your nan would be very proud of how far you two have come here. I know I am,” she said. 

They left the office feeling a little bit better, if only for a little while. Ryan was glad he’d allowed himself to cry. It had been eating away at him in the days counting down to this, threatening to consume him whole. 

But, he’d fought back. His head felt more square on his shoulders, and he felt better equipped to go back through family photos. 

Ryan would always miss his mum, and would always wish he could go back and change the past. But, life wasn’t always kind, and life didn’t let you choose what happened. So, he carried on, head held slightly higher and eyes lifted to the sky. He thought that his mum and nan might be looking down on him, smiling at the progress he’d made, no matter how small the steps.

He felt water hit his face as it started to rain. Maybe this was some god’s way of letting him know that they were here with him now. Or, maybe it was just rain. He found solace in the former. Choosing to refuse any logic and take hold of the belief like it was an old baby blanket of his. Today he chose to let everything remind him of the wonderful women he’d loved so dearly.

**Author's Note:**

> so there we are? my little tsuranga-inspired ficlet. I didn't know if anyone had explored Ryan's mum's story before, and my brain had gone funky so I figured I'd give it a try. Hope you all enjoyed, comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> tysm to dom (@WHTTAKERMCKNNON) for being my beta for this bit!!


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